


Wish You Were Here (Pink Floyd)

by Clitler



Series: Destiel Playlist [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Bathroom Sex, Be gentle, BisexualDean, Boys Kissing, Cheer him up Dean, Drinking, F/F, F/M, First Time, Frottage, GayCas, JessandCas friendship, M/M, Minor Character Death, My First Smut, SadCastiel, SexualHealinglol, Smut & Feels, handjobs, hungoverCas, mostly smut though, seriously, sorrynotsorry, the Scuttlebutt is real
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-10
Updated: 2017-05-10
Packaged: 2018-10-30 06:34:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10871121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clitler/pseuds/Clitler
Summary: Cas finds a kindred spirit in an unlikely place."Cas’s jaw dropped and he stared at Dean’s retreating form until the man disappeared behind the door marked “Matey’s”.  He stared back down at the table, at the nearly empty bottle of whiskey and then his own shaking hands, fiddling together in his lap.  Dean must be drunk.  Like, really drunk."





	Wish You Were Here (Pink Floyd)

 

Wish You Were Here (Pink Floyd)

            Cas was in a sort of self-induced hypnotic trance.  He recognized the signs, the glazed over feeling in his eyes from not truly focusing them for so long, the instinctually rhythmic steps he was taking, heading in one direction and somehow avoiding stepping off any curbs into traffic without even looking up.  He knew the signs but somehow couldn’t bring himself to care enough to snap himself out of it.  The outside world just seemed so far away and pointless, grey and flat, when compared to the endless catalogue of memories playing inside his head.  Inside his head was a world of love and laughter, of joy and wisdom, a world crafted by the man who had been his father in every way that mattered.  The same man he had seen lowered into the cold ground not four hours ago.

 

            He’s yanked out of his memory world by an explosion of sound and color that is two young women bursting out of a doorway on his right, both cackling wildly and clinging to each other as they stumbled toward the road and a small, white SUV idling at the curb.  As Cas watched, a young Asian man popped up on the far side of the vehicle.

 

“Uber for Charlie and Dorothy?” he called, his expression pleasantly bemused at the two giggling girls.

 

“That’s us!”  “We’re that! We’re them, I mean” the girls shouted simultaneously, each waving an arm in the air.

 

            The redhead, the shorter of the pair, suddenly threw her head back and shouted, “All hail Darlie and Chorothy!”

 

            The two exploded in laughter, with the taller brunette practically dragging the redhead to the SUV.

 

“Come on, baby, let’s continue this party at home,” the brunette crooned as she loaded her companion into the back of the vehicle.

 

            Cas and the driver exchanged an understanding smile.  Cas could faintly hear the driver admonishing the girls to buckle up as he slid into his seat, closed his door and pulled his truck away from the curb.

 

            Shaking his head and momentarily distracted from his own grief, Cas looked up to see where the women had even come from.  The buildings on this part of the street all looked pretty shabby, almost abandoned, mostly dark and boarded up.  But this particular one was festooned with aging neon signs in the tinted window advertising various beers and cheap food.  So, a bar, thought Cas.  The sign above the door was a huge circle of what looked to be plywood, painted a hideous shade of baby-shit yellow, with a crude rendering of Popeye the Sailor Man above the word “Scuttlebutt” written in cursive, all in a flat, brown.  Cas couldn’t help smiling at the thing, thinking it the worst advertisement (and name) for a bar that he had ever seen.  Sold, he thought, and entered the door the girls had tumbled out of moments ago.

 

            The bar looked deserted, at first glance.  As his eyes adjusted to the gloom, Cas registered a pretty, blond girl on the far side of the bow-shaped bar, sluggishly polishing a glass, and a man sitting on a short stool behind the bar, his face hidden behind a newspaper, but the size of his one visible arm belied his large size.  No other patrons appeared to be lurking anywhere in the small bar, no one at the bar itself or any of the ten small tables and two-person booths dotted around the perimeter.  Cas approached the bar slowly and cleared his throat.

 

“Are you serving?” he asked Big Newspaper Guy, tentatively.

 

“Sure thing, cher, whatllyahave?” came the drawled response from behind the newspaper.  The man’s deep but soft voice and obvious New Orleans accent was a shock to Cas, though not unpleasant.

 

“Whiskey, neat,” Cas said, as he took off his over-sized trench coat and hung it carefully on the back of his chosen bar stool, dead center of the large mirror which ran along the back of the bar.

 

“Leave the bottle, please,” Cas asked as he took his seat and the bartender finally pried himself away from his paper.

 

            Cas watched, impressed, as the huge man seemed to unfold from the small stool and move toward the bottles of booze behind him.  As he brought the whiskey and a shot glass to Cas, he realized the man had to be over 6 foot, and must weigh at least 350 pounds of bulging muscle.  The juxtaposition of his soft, Southern drawl and his imposing physique was enough to jolt Cas from his dour mood, at least until he turned back to his small stool and folded himself back up behind his newspaper.  Cas glanced at the blond girl still working away at the glass.  She seemed as lost in her own world as Cas had been on his walk from the cemetery, and as equally communicative, so Cas looked back down at his drink and downed it quickly, just as quickly refilling the little glass and repeating the process four more times in rapid succession.

 

            The door Cas had entered through slammed open, startling him so badly he nearly lost his grip on his sixth shot as his head whipped to the right to see what had caused the door to fly open.  The sight he was greeted with made him drop the shot anyway.  The man who had just walked, or rather slammed, into the bar had to be the most beautiful human being Cas had ever seen in real life.  Just a shade over 6 feet, broad-shouldered, with powerfully corded arms that spoke of a lifetime of honest labor rather than hours at the gym, the man grinned crookedly at Cas before he flicked his eyes over to the bartender.

 

“Benny, what the Hell, man!  Where’s the girls?” he shouted good-naturedly.

 

“Called ‘em a car.  You took too long and they were getting’ a mite handsy,” Big Newspaper Guy, or, apparently, Benny, answered, not even bothering to look up from what must be the world’s most interesting newspaper.

 

“Well, shit, sorry, man.  I was elbows deep in Baby when you called, had to get her all buttoned down before I could drive her again,” the Beautiful Man answered as he rubbed the back of his neck and glanced at the floor.  Cas thought the slight blush which graced the man’s freckled cheeks highlighted his jade green eyes in the most unfair way possible.

 

 _Jesus_ , Cas thought as the man approached the bar _, dirty blond hair and bowlegs?  Did he just jump out of my imagination?_ Cas looked up at the ceiling, _God give me strength._ The Beautiful Man plopped gracelessly onto the stool to the right of Cas and extended his right hand across himself.

 

“Name’s Dean,” he said with that lopsided smile again. _Unfair, unfuckingfair,_ James thought.

 

“Jimmy,” Cas said, as he took the man’s proffered hand and gave it two solid pumps. _Shit. Jimmy? Really? What the Hell, Cas?_ Only two people in Cas’ life had ever called him Jimmy, and he’d just buried one of them.

 

“You look like Life’s been kicking your ass there, Jimmy.  Wanna tell a total stranger all your troubles?”  Dean smiled as he glanced between Cas’ face and the booze and single shot glass on the bar in front of him.

 

 _What the Hell,_ thought Cas, as he gestured to the bottle and nodded a yes towards Dean.  Dean reached behind the bar and plucked another shot glass then grabbed the bottle of whiskey and slid off his stool.

 

“Let’s go sit quietly over there,” he told Cas as he gestured to the farthest booth way in the back.  “Wouldn’t want to interrupt anyone’s important newspaper reading time,” he grinned at Cas and flicked his eyes back to Benny, who simply extended his middle finger at Dean without letting go of his paper.  Dean threw his head back and laughed, a deep and honest sound that seemed to brighten the dingy bar considerably.  Cas lifted his (miraculously not spilled) shot glass and his coat and followed this enchanting creature wordlessly to the most secluded corner of the darkened bar.

 

“So, what’s got you looking so kicked and drowning your troubles at 4 o’clock on a Tuesday?” Dean asked as he poured himself a shot and held it up for Cas to tap with his own glass before they both drank them down.

 

“My father’s funeral was today,” Cas admitted quietly.

 

“Oh shit, man,” Dean took a better look at Cas, noting his dark blue suit and tie, the dark circles under red rimmed eyes.  Cas knew he must look a mess, having walked aimlessly for hours.  The wind had played havoc with his already unruly black hair and ruddied his pale skin until he looked feverish or even insane.

 

“Hey, I’m sorry, man.  You obviously loved your dad a lot.  I lost mine a few years ago, but we were not what you’d call close.  But I lost my mom a long time ago and that was really hard.  You’ve still got your mom, right?” Dean’s well-intentioned babbling sounded heartfelt to Cas so he tried not to be offended by the man’s assumptions.

 

“Well, he was not actually my father, but he raised me from the time I was an infant.  My parents were killed not long after I was born and Chuck was my father’s best friend,” Cas explained.

 

“Of Christ, open mouth, insert foot!  I’m so sorry for assuming, I didn’t mean to offend you at all, man, really,” Dean stammered quickly.

 

“It’s alright, you couldn’t have known.  I appreciate the sentiment,” Cas looked up into Dean’s leaf green eyes. _Those eyes, Jesus, so unfair!_ “And the company,” he finished, hoping his windblown complexion would cover the heat of the blush he could feel creeping up his neck.

 

“Hey, no problem.  Sometimes it’s easier to talk to a stranger that you know you’ll never see again.  Especially with booze.  Whiskey is the only true cure-all.  A very wise man once told me that,” Dean was back to smooth banter and teasing smiles but Cas saw a hint of true understanding under the bravado.  He didn’t know how he knew, but he had a feeling this man had been through some rough times himself.

 

            What followed were some of the happiest hours of Cas’s life.  Dean regaled Cas with tales of growing up with his little brother, whom Dean had practically raised, when he wasn’t playing pranks and teasing the boy mercilessly.  Cas recounted all his treasured memories of being raised by his eccentric uncle, whose gardening skills far exceeded his writing skills, much to his everlasting dismay.  The only aspect which spoiled the pleasant buzz Cas was feeling, from the whiskey or the intoxicating closeness of Dean, he couldn’t exactly tell which it was at this point, was the subtle mentions of ex-girlfriends dropped by Dean.  Cas silently berated himself for, yet again, being attracted to another Unattainable Straight Guy. _Story of my life_ , he thought.

 

            Cas got the distinct impression that Dean’s brother had been the center of his world for so long, the man was feeling completely lost now that his brother was attending college and seemed to have his life in order, even his love life, as he had just moved his fiancé into their shared house off campus.  Cas looked at this gorgeous man as he traced small circles on the tabletop with his grease-stained and calloused fingers and his heart simply called out to the man.

 

“We’re just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl,” he blurted out, before he could stop himself.

 

            Dean’s head came up quickly, all wide eyes and brilliant smile.  “That’s my favorite Floyd song.  How’d you know?”

 

“I didn’t.  It’s my favorite, too.  It seemed appropriate.  I’m lost without my father, you’re lost without your brother depending on you.  Am I completely off base here?”  Cas knew his blush was much too furious to be mistaken this time.

 

“No, no, man, you’re completely _on_ base,” the smile Dean gave him hinted at much more than simple comradery, something mischievous and not a little unsexy underlying his lopsided grin this time.  Cas was beginning to think the man had had too much to drink, or at least one of them had, if he what he was seeing from Dean was the flirtation he thought it was.

 

            Dean stood abruptly and slid out of the booth, hitching up his jeans slightly.  He leveled Cas with a pointed look.  “I’m going to hit the head.  You might want to wait a minute before you follow me.”

 

            Cas’s jaw dropped and he stared at Dean’s retreating form until the man disappeared behind the door marked “Matey’s”.  He stared back down at the table, at the nearly empty bottle of whiskey and then his own shaking hands, fiddling together in his lap.  Dean must be drunk.  Like, really drunk.  Or maybe he was one of these self-hating homosexuals who would do things with men in the dark and deny it all vehemently in the light and never, ever come out of the closet.  Cas just had to go in there and tell him that wasn’t what he was looking for.  He didn’t do anonymous encounters with closeted guys, no matter how much booze was involved.  He certainly didn’t need this kind of thing after the stress of the losing his father.

 

            Steeling himself for the inevitable fallout of his impending rejection of Dean’s advances, Cas scooted out of the booth and walked to the men’s room as steadily as possible.  As soon as he entered the room, he called out quietly, “Dean?  Dean, we need to talk about this.  I didn’t mean to give you the wrong idea. I don’t want to do anything with you in a bathroom.”  As he spoke he walked down the line of stalls until he stood outside of the handicapped stall, which opened quickly.  Cas was grabbed by his tie and hauled unceremoniously inside, the stall door slamming quickly behind him.

 

            Immediately, Dean had him pushed hard up against the cinderblock wall, crowding him with his body and locking him down with those eyes. _He’s going to kill me with those eyes,_ Cas thought.

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Jimmy.  What did you think I wanted from you, exactly?” Dean’s even tone belied the obvious tension Cas could feel from his body, the taut lines of which fairly quivered against him.

 

“I thought…I thought…Aren’t you straight though?”  Cas stammered.

 

            Dean threw his head back in another one of those genuine belly laughs that made Cas’s heart flip around like a fish in his chest.  “Did you think I wanted to blow you in the men’s room of the Scuttlebutt, Jimmy?”

 

“No, I…I don’t know what I thought,” Cas deflated, sagging against the wall but still held up by Dean’s firm grip on his tie.  _And my hip.  He has a hand on my hip. Oh God, I’m going to die right now,_ Cas thought.

 

“All I want is a kiss, Jimmy.  And don’t make assumptions about me after only a few hours and a couple of drinks.  May I kiss you, Jimmy?”  Dean’s breathe, acrid with whiskey and warm with want ghosted over Cas’s face.

 

            Cas closed his eyes because it was all just too much, too close, too beautiful, too intense and whispered, “Yes.”

 

            In Cas’s entire life, he had not known what kissing was because kissing Dean, or rather, being kissed by Dean, was not anything like any kiss he had ever had before.  Being kissed by Dean was an electric, full-body onslaught, ripping away all of Cas’s defenses in an instant and immediately replacing them with something much brighter, much warmer than the grey walls Cas had been living behind.

 

            Too soon, Dean’s warmth was gone and Cas felt the chill of the cinderblock wall at his back start to seep into him in its place.  His eyes still shut because he wasn’t quite ready to open them and discover it had all been a dream, Cas was startled by Dean’s low voice speaking softly from mere inches in front of his face.

 

“Maybe I do want a little more than a kiss, Jimmy.”  Cas’ already tripping heart stopped when Dean ground his obvious erection against Cas’ own hard cock.  Even through all the layers of their clothes, this was the most action Cas had gotten in _years_ and he franticly prayed he didn’t shoot in his pants like a teenager.

 

            Still breathing hot against Cas’ ear and beginning to explore Cas’ stomach through his button up, Dean practically purred, “Wanna feel that big cock in my hand, Jimmy.  Can I?”

 

“Yes.”  Cas definitely _did not_ whimper much too quickly.

 

            Cas felt Dean’s answering smirk against his neck as he started working his plush lips over Cas’ stubbled chin.  He felt Dean make quick work of his zipper, pulling Cas’ hard dick out of his boxers smoothly.  One slow stroke was all it took to bring Cas to full hardness.  Cas felt a bead of precum squeeze out the head of his cock. 

 

            Dean’s shocked inhale had Cas opening his eyes and looking down at Dean’s hand on his cock then back up to Dean’s enraptured face.

 

“Wow, Jimmy.”  Dean’s lust blown eyes darted from where his hand grasped Cas’ dick back up to Cas’ face. “You’re so beautiful,” he managed before attacking Cas’ mouth again.

 

            Dean’s slow strokes, aided by Cas’ now steadily flowing precum, sped up as Cas heard the sound of Dean fumbling with his own jeans.

 

“Can I, Jimmy?  Wanna make you feel good,” Dean breathed against Cas’ open mouth.

 

“Please,” Cas sighed.

 

            That was all Dean needed.  The next second he had both their slick cocks grasped firmly in one hand while his other stroked Cas’ cheek.  Dean went straight back to plundering Cas’ mouth, mapping it completely with tongue, teeth and lips while he stroked them both firmly, increasing his pace quickly.

 

“Can’t wait to see you cum, baby.  God, you look so good like this.  Wanna see you lose it for me, baby.  Come on, Jimmy, cum with me, baby.  So fucking beautiful like this,” Dean’s rambling against his lips pushed Cas over the edge embarrassingly quickly.  As his orgasm shot through his body, heating him from his spine outward, Cas felt like his very soul was being pulled out his dick and spilled across Dean’s dick and pumping hand.

 

“Oh, fuck yeah, Jimmy! Oh fuck yes, oh shit yes!”  Dean hissed as he stared down as Cas’ pulsing cock.  He threw his head back as he worked them through their orgasms, while Cas stared at the beautiful long line of his neck, mouth agape and gasping for breath.

 

            Dean slowly lowered his head back to kiss Cas slow and gently while reached behind himself with his clean hand to scramble at the toilet paper dispenser.  As he came back to Earth, Cas realized he still had a death grip on Dean’s biceps and slowly pried his fingers off the man, only to find his arms had gone completely boneless as they dangled at his sides.  Still breathing like he’d just run a marathon, Cas watched stupidly while Dean cleaned them both up the best he could with a wad of toilet paper, tossing it in the toilet, and gently tucking Cas’ softened dick back in his pants before zipping him back up then putting himself back together.

 

            Stroking down Cas’ cheek with his clean hand, thumbing across his cheekbone, Dean leaned in for a chaste press of his kiss-swollen lips to Cas’ perpetually chapped mouth.  Cas couldn’t help but let his eyelids flutter shut.

 

 

“I’m here three or four nights a week.  Maybe we’ll run into each other again soon, huh, Jimmy?  You just keep those baby blues shut tight, beautiful.  Catch your breath before you walk out of here or Benny’ll get the wrong idea,” Dean husked, voice sounding as wrecked as Cas felt.

 

            Cas knew it was a few minutes he stood there, trying to even his breathing and then smoothing his rumbled clothes, but he still somehow expected Dean to be finishing off his whiskey or maybe chatting with Benny.  What he didn’t expect was to find the bar empty save for Benny, still reading his newspaper behind the bar.  Cas extracted a hundred from his wallet and laid it in front of Benny on the bar top.

 

“Have a good one, cher,” came the man’s response from behind his paper.

 

            Cas walked out of the bar like he was surfacing from a deep-sea dive, gasping as he came back out to the sidewalk he felt he’d left years ago.  It was dark now and Cas realized he had no idea where he, or the Scuttlebutt, actually was.  He pulled out his cell and called the only person he knew would come get him at this hour.

 

            Her phone only rang once before Jess’s stressed voice was in his ear.

 

“Cas, oh my God, where are you? Are you okay?  Did you get my texts?  We’ve been worried sick!  Where did you wonder off to after the service?  No one saw you leave!”  Jess was getting shrill with her worry.

 

“Jess, Jess! Stop! I’m fine, I am, I swear.  I just started walking and then I went in to a bar for a couple drinks and I don’t actually know where I am.  Can you come get me?” Cas dropped his forehead into the hand not holding his phone because as much as he hated asking for a ride, he was going to hate this next question even more.  “And, um, can I crash on your couch?  Just for tonight.  I’m feeling a little overwhelmed, it’s just been such a long day.  A long, strange day.  And I don’t really want to be in the house alone right now.”

 

“God, yes, Cas, of course!  You know you can stay here as long as you need!” Cas could hear the soft sound of Jess whispering with a man, probably her boyfriend, Sam.  “I’m getting in the car now.  What’s the name of the bar you’re at?”

 

            It wasn’t ten minutes later that Jess pulled up to the same curb previously occupied by the Uber driver six hours ago.  Sliding into the passenger seat, Cas told Jess he was sorry for making her worry and no, he did not want to talk about any of it.  She did what she always did and assured him all was well but that they would most definitely be talking about this soon.  When they arrived at Sam and Jess’s house, which Cas had not actually visited since Jess had moved in with Sam, he immediately snuggled up on their living room couch and let Jess throw an old afghan over him, dress shoes and all.

 

 

            Sounds of clinking silverware on plates and the smell of bacon and coffee woke Cas when he was finally able to peel his swollen eyes open.  He did not recognize where he was at all, but the familiar sound of Jess’s light laugh told him where he had ended his night.  Getting up from the couch, Cass made his way around a curving wall and into a large eat-in kitchen, where he spotted Jess and her boyfriend, Sam, seated at a kitchen table, empty plates in front of them.

 

“Well, good morning, Sunshine.  Want something to eat, maybe some coffee?”  Jess’s chipper morning voice was almost too much for Cas’s thumping head.  “Oh, and this is Sam’s brother,” she started, indicating the man standing at the sink, elbows deep in dishwater.

 

“Dean.”  Cas and Jess finished her sentence together as the man turned, wiping his hands on a small towel.

 

“Jimmy?”  Dean asked with a look of utter confusion.

 

“Okay, how do you two know each other?”  Sam asked.

 

“Long story, bro, I’ll tell you later.  Can we have a minute?”  Dean asked, having recovered much quicker than Cas, who still stood gawping at Dean like a fish.

 

            Jess and Sam beat a hasty retreat, but not before Jess gave Dean a pointed look intended to say be nice.  Dean nodded and waved them out.

 

“So, you’re Jess’s best friend, Cassie?  Why’d you lie about your name, man?” Dean leaned up against the sink, arms folded across his broad chest, giving Cas some space but clearly a bit insulted.

 

“I didn’t lie.  My name is James Cassiel Novak-Shurley.  Everyone except my cousin and Jess calls me Jimmy.”  Cas had finally found his ability to speak with the accusation of dishonesty leveled at him.

 

“Well, I guess I can see why you would tell me Jimmy.  That is quite a mouthful.  So, what should I call you?  Because, honestly, man, I like Cas, suits you better than Jimmy.”  Dean had unfolded his arms and was stepping slowly but intently toward Cas, never breaking eye contact.

 

“Why…why would…I mean, um, Cas? I guess?”  Now Cas was flustered, the look in Dean’s eyes bringing back the memory of their kiss in the bathroom of the bar causing heat to flash across his body and a blush to creep up his neck.

 

“Alright Cas-I-guess, I know you’ve have a rough couple of days, but I meant what I said last night.  I would really love to see you again.  Think you’d be up for that?”  Dean finished up mere inches from Cas’s body, so close, Cas could feel the heat from Dean like standing next to a furnace.

 

“God yes,” Cas sighed.  Dean chuckled lowly as he wrapped one hand around Cas’ waist and snaked the other up the back of his neck to card through his hair.

 

“I’d like to see how much more fucked out I can get this crazy sex hair of yours to be.  Wanna come down to my apartment and finish what we started last night, _Cas_?” Dean breathed across Cas’ jaw and down his neck.

 

            Cas nodded minutely as his breathing stuttered at Dean’s invitation.  Dean backed up and took Cas’ hand drawing him toward a door in the back wall of the kitchen.

 

“This is going to be so much fun,” Dean drawled as he smirked at Cas’ dazed expression.


End file.
